


part 9 a.

by hdarchive



Series: Heartstrings Verse [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Nerd!Blaine, Skank!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you know about sex?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	part 9 a.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: discussion of past sexual experiences (consensual)

He’s tried to get Blaine to stop staring at him. He can’t. He’s tried to scare him, tried to throw him off, but -

Blaine sits there, back straight and eyes wide, never looking away from him.

This is only the third week of tutoring (Kurt refers to it as torturing) and he doesn’t know how to stop him. He’s like a bug that refuses to be squashed, always buzzing in his face. Focused and more determined than Kurt knows what to do with and even though he tried to make him stop, tried to scare him - _he keeps getting back up._

And he doesn’t understand why, when there’s nothing for Kurt to offer him. There are several students in this school who won’t try to smoke in the library, who won’t “accidently” lose their textbooks, who won’t make it their mission to make Blaine as miserable as possible.

And he’s still here.

If Kurt cared enough, he might admire that.

But if Blaine is still here, then Kurt _has_ to be here. 

Kurt sighs hard through his nose, flicks his pen rapidly against the textbook in front of him, and he hopes if he glares hard enough at it Blaine might pick up on his signal and look away.

Clearly he doesn’t know Blaine well enough because he doesn’t.

And finally, voice sharp, he spits, “Do you want something?”

Blaine jumps. Twists in his seat, shoulders curved back, with his eyes wide on Kurt. “What?”

“You’re being weird. Stop.”

Blaine freezes, eyes going wide, and he breathes in deep as he stares at the book in front of him, closes his eyes, and Kurt’s just about to put his pen to paper when Blaine slowly turns to look at him again.

“Blaine!” he hisses, sitting back in his chair. “I said -”

“What do you know about sex?”

And then his breath catches in his throat, mouth hung open, chest locking up.

Blaine’s own mouth wobbles as he tries to come up with words, chokes, and he finally looks down and covers his hands over his face.

He really doesn’t know Blaine _at all_. He never saw this coming, and how could he?

Blaine Anderson; who’s best friend is the librarian and who dresses like it’s the twentieth century and who’s probably never said the word sex before in his life.

A dizzy swirl swims in his gut, and Kurt realizes he isn’t breathing, forces it in and out, and blinks at him. He hates that he feels heat in his cheeks, red up to his hairline, and tries to look away.

Finally breathing is too difficult and Kurt coughs, hacks into his hand and resettles the way he’s sitting, shifting uncomfortably.

“Wh-what?”

Blaine’s mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, soundless words trying to escape, and he leans onto one arm, and even though he looks as uncomfortable as Kurt feels he doesn’t stop. “Sex. What’s it like?”

And then something pulls him tight, makes Kurt sit straighter, keeps his arms crossed, and he fixes his burning gaze on Blaine.

“What makes you think I’m an expert?” Kurt tries, venom in his voice, on his tongue.

Blaine looks to the ceiling, sways from one side to the other, lips pushed together tight.

“Well, you hang out with the likes of Quinn Fabray, don’t you?” Blaine asks.

Glare still pinned on him, Kurt drawls, “Okay, so what?”

“So I mean, I guess, well, I -” Blaine gulps, gasps out, eyes still up high. “I’ve heard things. About her.”

He’s incredibly lucky to have Quinn, in that sense.

“About you.”

And then Kurt can’t stop the lurch of his bones, can’t stop from jerking upwards in his seat, his heart slamming into warp speed. “Oh.”

He had Quinn, he had the rest of the Skanks. He never - not really. once - had to put himself there, down at the bottom, with someone he doesn’t know and someone he doesn’t care about. Not like them. Not like them except for once -

And what is sex like?

He doesn’t know, but it has to be more than hands on him. Has to be more than having his armor torn off, somebody’s mouth on his neck, has to be more than his mind blanking out.

With his heart rapid in his chest, eyes closed tightly, well, it has to be more than that.

When you’re seventeen years old and somebody wants you, in a way nobody ever has before, Kurt likes to pretend that anybody would have done it.

The rest of them did. That’s what they’re known for, of course they did.

He thought he knew what he was doing, was sure it was right. It was taking his body and thinking _this will feel good, this will feel good -_

Unfortunately for seventeen year old Kurt, sex was this guy not knowing how to undo the buttons of his jacket, and Kurt sighing out loud to the ceiling as he had to take it off himself. Unfortunately for seventeen year old Kurt, sex was giving a part of yourself - your control. your body. a sliver of your heart - to somebody who only wanted to play with it, not hold it.

When he was seventeen years old, not that long ago, he thought that was it. That was sex.

Sex is being found when you don’t want to - being seen - and sex is being dragged through every wall you’ve ever put up by your _ankles_.

It was a pair of hands touching him in ways he didn’t know, contrasting with the hands of people who wanted to hurt him, and he was sure, he knew it, right there in that bathroom stall - never again.

It was fear.

With his chin raised, eyes like slits on Blaine, he says, quietly, “Why do you wanna know so bad?”

Red flushing his cheeks, Blaine squirms in his seat, eyes bouncing off every corner of the room but refusing to land on Kurt.

“I thought it’d be in my best interest to, uh, hear some real world experience. You know, to add to my research.”

“Research . . ?”

Blaine’s quick to nod, almost bouncing where he’s sitting. “It’s just this Cheerio - she said that I was - um, she might have said something about me being a loser for not . . for being . .”

Kurt laughs. Dry in his throat, but he can’t hold it down.

“Shocker.”

“Kurt - _please_.”

And sex for Kurt - he doesn’t understand why people want it so badly when it’s not that. Whatever it was that he was expecting; pleasure, freedom. And why people base their lives around one thing when it isn’t _that_ -

“This might come as news to you, Blaine, but not having sex doesn’t make you a loser.”

“I know that,” Blaine says, leaning forward. “I just wanted to know what -”

“Trust me, it’s nothing -”

“It sounds to me like you’re afraid of it.”

“Blaine - I’m -” Kurt brings a hand up, pushes it through his bangs and sighs into his wrist.

Maybe he doesn’t know Blaine, maybe he never will, but when Blaine pushes a button, pulls a string, he does it _hard_. Making them snap, alarms going off, shields going up. And even behind his shields, embedded with lies, Blaine stares at him.

Blaine sees him and sees - Kurt doesn’t know what. _He’s not even afraid of him._

“You wanna know what sex is like?” Kurt starts, biting, and perhaps too loud when his own voice echos back to him. “It’s messy, it’s wet, and it’s over before you can even blink.”

He’s standing before he can decide not to. He’s grabbing his books before he even knows where he’s going. He’s turning from Blaine before has to see the crumble of his expression.

“Kurt - wait. I’m sorry -”

He doesn’t leave, he stands and faces the opposite direction. “No it’s - whatever.”

And then he goes before he falls.


End file.
